Things To Do In Vegas When You're Undead
by automatic-badgirl
Summary: Sara, Nick, Greg and Zombies! Oh My! Part of the "Five Crossovers that Never Happened To Sara Sidle" Story Cycle
1. Bad Day

Sara was not having a good day. The day had started out with great promise; her hair was behaving itself, doing its bouncy shampoo commercial best. She was wearing a pretty new blouse; a lilac shade the salesclerk had sworn set off the "mahogany highlights" in her hair. She was doubtful about the highlights but she felt fairly chic and pulled together. She felt ready to tackle whatever crime Vegas saw fit to throw her way.

Then she got stuck in traffic. And the air conditioner seemed to be broken, that could be the only explanation for the feeble stream of tepid air her car saw fit to produce. Sara sighed and blew a few limp strands off of her forehead. _Bye-bye good hair day—hello frizz city…_

She drummed her fingers impatiently on the wheel. If the traffic didn't get moving soon, she'd be late. She couldn't see what was causing the problem. She punched on the radio.

…_unconfirmed reports of an unusual viral outbreak in parts of the Northwestern United States. So far, details are vague but it appears to be localized to remote areas. Officials are investigating. And that's the news. Stay tuned for Crazy Dave and the Top 40 Power Countdown on KJRT. Vegas' Number One—_

Sara growled and switched to the CD player. _Crazy Dave and the Top 40 can bite me. There's never a traffic report when you need one._

Finally the traffic started to move, and with some fairly aggressive driving and a few ballsy lane changes Sara was able to pull into the parking lot only a few minutes late.

* * *

She did her ninja best to just sort of "appear" in the lab, but of course today would be the day Grissom would be on a walkabout. He caught her in the hall and stared rather blatantly at her new blouse.

_Damn. I might have to shop at that store again…_

"You have something." Grissom pointed to her blouse.

Sara looked down. A large black stain had spread in a rather suggestive fashion, like a Rorschach blot, over her left breast. Sara gasped and snatched her pen out of the pocket; gooey black ink smeared her fingers.

"Shit!" She snarled and pitched the pen into the nearest trash basket.

"Ever consider a pocket protector?" Gil cocked his head at her.

"Grissom. This was a new blouse. A very expensive, raw silk blouse. You don't wear pocket protectors with a blouse like that."

"If you had, you'd still have a very expensive _unstained _raw silk blouse wouldn't you?" Grissom turned and walked away calling over his shoulder. "You're late, Sophia and Greg are already here."

Sara prayed for strength. _Please God, don't let me kill anyone today…especially know-it-all entomologists. _

* * *

Sara followed Grissom into his office. Greg and Sophia were sitting by his desk, there were no chairs left for her. She noticed with a stab of irritation Sophia had taken the chair closest to Grissom. The chair Sara herself, usually sat in. _Of course. What else do you have on board for me today, life? Maybe a nice juicy zit? Toilet paper on the shoe? Or a rain of toads perhaps?_

"You've got black on you—" Greg pointed.

"I know!" Sara snapped.

"O-kay then." Greg rolled his eyes at Sophia only increasing Sara's irritation.

"Alright…" Grissom sat on the edge of his desk and handed out the night's assignments. "Sara and Greg I need you to drive out to Blue Diamond to relieve Nick, he's on scene there but Cath' told me she needs him back here so you'll have to take over."

"That's like 45 minutes away Griss'." As soon as the words were out of her mouth Sara wished she could take them back, she sounded cranky. No, more than just cranky—bitchy.

"I am aware of how far away it is Sara." Grissom stared coolly at her. "So I suggest you and Greg get moving. Sophia you're with me."

_Don't say anything…you're already in dutch with him. Just leave it alone… _But her mouth was already opening.

"Why is she—"

Grissom looked at her, exasperation written all over his face. Greg jumped up and grabbed her arm.

"C'mon. I'll buy you a coffee at Starbucks if you leave right now _without another word_." He muttered in her ear.

Sara bit her tongue and left.

* * *

"What is _with_ you? Are you looking to get fired?" Greg hustled her down the hall to the parking lot.

"No. It's just—" Sara hated feeling this way. She knew she was being stupid and mulish. Didn't seem to stop her mouth any though. "Hey, can I at least change my shirt?"

"No. I want to get you out of here before you bite the head off anyone else."

"I wasn't going to—"

"Did you ever wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, what are you on the rag?"

"What? You don't ask stuff like that, you asshole."

"See, I told you were going to bite someone's head off. Good thing we're pals Sara and deep down I know you love me." Greg grinned and held open the door to the parking lot for her.

Sara glared at him and stalked through the door.


	2. Blue Diamond

"So are you planning to ignore me the whole way to Blue Diamond?" Greg looked over at her.

Sara said nothing and concentrated on her driving.

"I even bought a brownie for you. I know how women like chocolate…especially when it's, you know, that time." Greg held out the paper bag from Starbucks and dangled it temptingly.

Sara's knuckles were white on the steering wheel. "Greg. Listen to me carefully. I don't have my period. And even if I did, do you have any idea how insulting it is to say that if I'm angry, it must be because of that? Today started out as a good day. When I woke up I was happy. Things have gone straight down the crapper since then." Sara fixed him with her best stare—the one she saved especially for asshole suspects. "But it has nothing to do with my menstrual cycle, got it?"

"I know that Sara. I've worked around women for years in the lab, remember?" Greg grinned at her.

"Well then, why are you trying to piss me off?"

"Yelling at me won't get you fired…"

Startled she looked over at him.

"Sure hate to have to work this shift without you." Sara blinked back the sudden and wholly unexpected prick of tears. They drove in silence for a few moments.

"Thanks..."

"No problem." Greg stared out the window, nonchalantly, teasing grin on his face. "You can tell everyone later—at length and in detail—how grateful you are to know me…start with Hodges"

"Don't push your luck." Sara's mouth slanted up in a smile. "Pass over that brownie."

"Do I know women or what?" Greg handed her the bag.

"You're insufferable, you know that?"

"You're crazy about me—admit it."

"Whatever."

Still, Sara felt for the first time since this morning like she might get her good mood back.

* * *

The drive to Blue Diamond was fairly uneventful except for the one time they had to pull the Tahoe over to the side when a fleet of emergency vehicles, lights flashing came barreling up the highway, passing them.

"What's going on? Is that for our scene?" Sara asked.

"I don't think so…" Greg frowned and pulled out his cell, punching in Nick's number. "Hey. It's Greg. Is everything okay at the scene?"

Nick's tinny voice could be heard faintly as he replied.

Sara looked quizzically over at Greg as he talked. He waved his hand dismissively at her, so she took that to mean everything was okay. Still it was odd. She knew how regular cops felt about the "Nerd Squad" but rarely were they left out of the loop when it came to emergency situations.

Greg flipped the phone closed and frowned for a minute.

"Nick said that the sheriff showed up and spoke to his boys and they all left suddenly. Didn't bother telling Nick why…He said there's no problem at the scene there but no one's answering his radio calls. The only other persons on scene are the meatwagon crew, and they don't know what's up either."

"Huh." Sara felt a prickle of unease.

"Yeah, huh. I know local cops are territorial and all but this is just weird."

They drove in silence the rest of the way.


	3. I Saw This Movie Once

Sara brought the Tahoe to a stop in the dusty front yard of a derelict bungalow. The only other vehicles were Nick's car and the coroner's van, ragged tire tracks in the dust showed that the other cars here had left in a hurry. The sun was just starting to set and the sky looked like it was bleeding out. Livid red clouds loomed over distant mountains; the last rays of the sun were trapped within and lit up the clouds with an ominous glow. The air still held the heat of the day; despite that Sara felt a cool trickle of sweat crawl down her spine. She shivered.

"Pretty creepy." Greg stood beside her, hands stuffed into his back pockets. "I saw a movie that started just like this…didn't end well."

Sara shot him a look.

"Are you trying to wig me out Greg? Because I warn you, there isn't a horror movie made that can do that."

"Even the _Exorcist_? Because that's a classic…"

"Nope." Sara opened the back gate and pulled out her kit.

"How about _Blair Witch Project_? Man I couldn't sleep for hours after that." Greg shuddered.

"Ugh no. The jerky camera, always moving around, made me feel nauseous. Not scared."

"How about _Resident Evil_?"

Sara shrugged and passed Greg his kit.

"Didn't see it."

"Well, no loss, it was pretty crappy."

Sara started walking up the driveway. "I see enough horror on the job Greg. Why would I want to watch it for fun?"

"Yeah I guess…" Greg followed Sara around to the back of the house. "So what do you like to watch for fun?"

Sara grinned at him. "Documentaries."

Greg groaned. "God, Sidle you are _such_ a geek…"

"What? They're educational."

"Movies are supposed to be fun…"

"Learning is fun."

"Spoken like a true nerd. One time you and I are going to rent a bunch of—"

"Shh!" Sara held up a hand and shushed Greg. Quietly she eased open the sagging screen door and stepped into a deserted kitchen. She was tense and alert as she shined her flashlight around the dim room. It was very quiet; she heard no low murmurs of cops talking, the whines of camera flashes and the other assorted background noises she usually associated with processing a crime scene.

"It's quiet…" she whispered to Greg.

"Too quiet." he replied.

Exasperated, she frowned at him. "You watch too many movies."

"Sorry." Greg set down his kit on the kitchen table and switched on his own flashlight.

"Hello?" She called. Her voice echoed in the silent house. "Nick?"

She started down the tiny hallway leading to the front of the house. "It's Sara." she stopped and Greg banged into her back. Surprised, she whirled on him.

"Don't crowd me!" She whispered furiously.

"Jeeze, sorry!" He whispered back.

"Well just—don't. Watch my back."

"I was. Don't yell at me just because you're scared, Sara."

"I wasn't yelling. And I'm not scared!"

That was when the door just ahead banged open and a dark figure lurched out of the darkness towards them.

Sara yelped and clutched at Greg whose sweaty hands grabbed her arms equally desperately.

"Hey guys. I didn't hear you. We're down in the basement." Nick shined his flashlight on the pair in the hallway. The sudden brightness made Sara blink like an owl. "I didn't scare you did I?" The cheery glow of the flashlight revealed Nick's knowing smirk. Sara shoved Greg away and glared at Nick. "I wasn't scared, just startled for a second." she grumped. "Not smart, startling someone with a gun, Nick."

"Which you haven't even drawn." He pointed out evenly.

"Well, I could've drawn it." The adrenaline rush of fear had left her feeling shaky and cross again.

"Hey Greggo. How're your Jockeys holding up?" Nick said.

"My Jockeys are just fine, despite the lameness of you and that grade school stunt." Greg replied tartly. "Not cool, man."

"No, but funny as hell." Nick's pleased smile faded and he looked curiously at Sara. "You've got some black on your…uh" He waved at her breast.

"Oh here we go…" Greg muttered.

"I know!" Sara stomped past him down the stairs to the basement.

"What did I say?" Nick looked confused.

"Let it go man." Greg brushed past Nick and started down the stairs after Sara.

"Damn. Try to be helpful and get your head bitten off…" Nick announced to the empty hallway. He turned and went down the stairs after Sara and Greg.


	4. Occam's Razor Cuts Both Ways

"So it's a pretty basic scene. Looks like our unknown vic here OD'd on heroin. There's a trace amount of it on his clothes and works. Once you get it back to the lab you'll be able to tell how pure it is but dude here was a long time user. Lots of tracks. Guess he just shot up one time too many…" Nick rubbed the back of his neck as he talked them through the scene. "Decomp is pretty advanced. Even though the house is abandoned and used by transients now and then, body wasn't found for a while."

That much was obvious. The gassy stench of advanced decay filled the basement despite the propped open windows. The pitiful corpse lay beside a crust of dried vomit; stick thin arms and legs had started to slough off skin. Sara framed a shot in her camera and took another photo. The flash lit up the basement. The two men from the coroner's office stood patiently to one side waiting for her to finish so they could remove the body.

"I appreciate you guys picking this one up for me. Catherine needs me to go over some testimony with her, we have court tomorrow." Nick said.

"Uh-huh. No worries." Sara didn't even look up, so focused was she on her work. It never mattered who the vic was, rich or poor, junkie or king. Once she was on a scene the world dropped away.

"Okay I'm done." She stepped back and motioned to the waiting men that they could take the body.

"See ya later." Nick turned for the stairs.

"Later." Greg called. Sara didn't reply. She had tweezed up a stray fiber and was slipping it into a bindle.

"Right, Sara's patented silent treatment. Nice." Nick muttered as he started up the stairs. He froze when the coroner's assistant let out a tiny scream and jumped backwards.

"He's still alive!"

"What!" Nick pounded back down the stairs.

"He just moved; he's still alive." The man's eyes were huge and he'd backed away from the body as far as he could.

"Impossible!" Sara started forward but Nick reached out and grabbed her arm, stilling her. In the sudden silence a low groan was heard. There was no doubt it came from the body lying on the concrete floor. A leg twitched.

"Fuck me…" Greg breathed.

The coroner crouched next to the body and leaned over it.

"I'm going to attempt first aid! Call for an ambulance!" Frantically he started chest compressions. There was a crack, then his hands punched through the junkie's rib cage, plunging his forearms into the soupy mess of the junkie's chest.

"What the…?" Repulsed, the coroner pulled his hands out and stared at them, baffled.

The junkie sat up, noisome fluids dribbling out of the hole in his chest. His eyes opened, they were sunken and clouded with a milky film. The junkie opened his mouth wide and with a bubbling growl clamped his teeth into the side of the unfortunate coroner's neck. The man's scream rang in the confines of the basement. He struggled madly to free himself from the junkie's grip. But the creature hung on, shaking his head like a dog and working his jaws deeper. Blood welled up and started to rain down on the dirty concrete floor. Then with a savage rip, the junkie pulled free a large chunk of flesh and swallowed it, blood fountained from the gaping wound in the neck of the unfortunate coroner. He feebly tried to crawl away, screams dying down as his blood poured out of him onto the floor until he finally lay still.

Everyone started yelling at once.

"Jesusjesusjesus!" The coroner' assistant gibbered in terror. The corpse of the junkie struggled upright and started tottering towards him. The man froze when his back pressed up against the far wall and watched as helplessly as a rabbit will when it's caught in the high beams of a tractor-trailer roaring down on it.

"Run! Run!—fucking run!" Greg hopped up and down and yelled at the man. He was unaware of how bizarrely funny he looked but it was enough that Sara started giggling wildly. High screamy laughs that only trailed off when she felt Nick's fingers digging into her arms.

"Sara! Sara! That guy was dead. He was fucking dead! What's happening?" Underneath the fear his voice sounded worried, as if somehow he'd be blamed for all of this eventually. Her giggles trailed off and she wiped at the sudden tears on her cheeks. _What's happening? Good question…evidence indicates I've lost my mind…_

The junkie staggered forward and still the poor assistant didn't move. Sara saw very clearly when he finally raised his hands and covered his eyes. As a child will when the movie is too scary. She longed to do the same, just sit down and cover her eyes until all of this was over. But she couldn't look away. Not even when the wet crunching noises started as the corpse started to feed.

"Shoot it! Shoot it!" Greg pounded on Nick's arm. "You have to kill it!"

"It's already dead!" Nick yelled back at him but he'd unholstered his gun and pointed it at the creature. He fired; Sara jumped, the report was loud. She'd forgotten how loud a gunshot was in a small space. The bullet thudded into the corpse's back. It growled and dropped the body of the assistant and started for them. Nick fired again as Sara backed up almost tripping over Greg. She didn't protest when he grabbed her tightly.

"It's not working!" Panic edged Nick's voice and they retreated to the stairs.

"In the head! Shoot it in the head!" Greg's voice was loud in her ear. But that was fine—good even—because it kept the swarming black dots that were fuzzing her vision at bay.

Nick aimed again and fired, blowing the top of the junkie's head off in a spray of blood and bone. It took one more lurching step, then sagged to its knees and fell face forward onto the floor. Silence reigned once more.

"…the fuck…what the fuck…what the fuck…?" Nick leaned forward and rested his hands on his knees, repeating this over and over again. Then he took a step forward and vomited. He retched once more, a thin stream of bile drooling from his lips as he straightened.

Heat flooded his face and he wiped his mouth. "Sorry. It's just—fuck…"

"Don't be." Greg's face was white except for two spots of color high on his cheeks. He patted Nick's back absently. "I would've lost my cookies too." He looked over at the bloody mess that was the remains of the coroner. "I may yet. Still, nice shooting there, Tex."

Nick smiled wryly and holstered his gun. He saw Sara,

"Hey…Sara are you going to be okay? Sara honey?

Sara was trembling violently. Huge shudders ripped through her frame and she hugged herself tightly to try and stop them. She was shaking her head back and forth. She swayed on her feet.

Nick jumped forward and caught her in time. Steadying her in his arms, he pushed her to sit, his hand resting on the back of her neck. She hung her head and concentrated on breathing, willing herself not to faint.

"You okay?" Greg knelt by her and rubbed her knee.

"No. No, I am not okay. I am having the world's worst fucking day! First, I'm late for work, then I ruined my new blouse, I fought with Grissom, I fought with you and now corpses at crime scenes are sitting up and eating people. Which is impossible. So no! I am most definitely not okay!" Her voice had grown louder and louder until she was practically yelling. But that was better than the wheezy weakness of earlier.

"Sorry Sara. I'm fresh out of brownies…but I'll let you punch Nick if you want…" Greg squeezed her hand.

"Wha—" she said.

"Punch _me_?" Nick said. "Why not you?"

"I bruise easy. Besides you scared us earlier. You owe us."

"I told you I wasn't scared…" Sara groused, but Greg's teasing had worked, she could deal with this; she was a scientist, there had to be a logical explanation. All she had to do was find it. She scrubbed her hands over her face and stood up.

"So. Question one. What in the fuck is going on here?"

"Yeah. Good question." Nick's normally open face wore a haunted look. "This is messed up. I keep thinking of reasons, like toxic waste, or some kind of new virus, even a secret government experiment… and they all seem so—so stupid."

"Well we're investigators. Let's investigate." Briskly Sara stepped forward and reached for her case.

"I don't believe you two." Greg was incredulous. "The answer is right there in front of you and you don't see it."

"Care to share then, Greggo?" Nick's voice was tight.

"Duh. They're zombies."

A beat of silence.

"Zombies?" Sara planted her hands on her hips. "There's no such thing. It's scientifically impossible."

"Well then, by all means let's stay here and "investigate" and once those two…" Greg pointed at the bodies of the coroner and his assistant "zombify or whatever, you'll find out what's scientifically impossible or not."

"I plan to." Sara snapped. "And there _will_ be a perfectly logical reason for this. Zombies." Sara made a rude noise. « I told you, you watch too many movies."

"Oh, so this is about me now? Would it kill you to admit you were wrong and I was right for once, Sidle?"

"No. It hasn't before." Sara crossed her arms and glared at Greg, "It's just that—today—in this instance you are _so wrong_. The dead stay dead. Case closed."

"Oh they do. The dead stay dead, do they?" Greg mirrored her stance and glared back. "Tell that to them." Greg jerked his head at the bodies. "Goddamned junkie looked pretty fucking dead to me, Sara."

"There's got to be a reason!" Sara was getting loud again.

"Okay maybe y'all need to cool down—" Nick tried to interrupt but Greg overrode him.

"Yeah! The reason is they're fucking zombies!"

"There's no such thing!" She shouted.

"Why not?" Greg shouted back at her.

"Because it's wrong!" She dragged her hands through her hair, forgetting in her frustration that she was wearing gloves. "Everything we do, everything we are, is about the evidence. Evidence doesn't lie. _Science_ doesn't lie! And science tells me that this is impossible. That it's wrong. It just is!" Sara looked over at the corpses littering the basement floor, "You of all people should know that…science doesn't lie…it can't." She finished lamely and looked pleadingly at Greg.

"I don't need science to tell me what I saw with my own eyes, Sara." Greg said quietly. He saw her mouth open and he held up a hand stilling her, "And spare me the rant about eyewitness accounts. I know all of that. I also know I saw a dead man. A _rotting_ dead man sit up and kill two other men today. And that _thing_ would've killed us if Nick hadn't shot it. And you saw it too. You just won't—or can't—admit it."

"I'm sorry Greg but—"

"Yeah me too." Greg turned his back on her and began throwing his equipment into his kit. The stiff line of his back a silent rebuke to Sara.

"Occam's razor…" Nick said slowly.

Sara and Greg both looked over at him.

"We're standing around here arguing about the existence of zombies, when Occam's razor tells us that the simplest explanation is usually the correct one."

"Thank you!" Sara said triumphantly. "I told you there was a—"

"No Sara. I'm with Greg."

Sara looked stunned.

"He's right. I saw a corpse kill two men today. _We_ all saw that today, and until I get more information about this phenomenon, I'm all for calling a spade a spade, or in this case a zombie, a zombie. I'm not saying that science won't provide a logical explanation for this later, but right now I'd feel a whole lot safer and a whole lot _saner _acting as if these guys are zombies.

"I don't believe you." Sara's eyes were full of reproach. "I don't believe you'd throw away all your training in favor of this crazy idea. It's stupid and I'll prove how stupid it is. Watch."

Sara knelt by the corpse of the dead coroner; carefully she turned him over and felt for a pulse. Wholly unnecessary, due to the volume of blood soaking into the floor, it was pretty obvious he was dead. But she wasn't sure how else to prove a corpse was dead than to check for signs of life.

"No pulse." She peeled back one eyelid and shone her flashlight into his eye. "Pupils are non-reactive." She frowned and leaned closer. The eye was glazing over faster than a corpse's eye usually did. Almost the entire surface had turned a milky white.

"Hmm, that's interesting." Neither Nick nor Greg said anything but she continued on as if their silence wasn't damming. "Pupils appear to be coated with a film. It might be a sign of toxicity. You may want to get a photo of this." They didn't move.

Sighing Sara turned to face them. "Look I'm sorry but this is a crime scene and we may as well investiga—"

The cool hand of the coroner grabbed her wrist. She shrieked and attempted to pull free, astonished at the brute strength of the thing. It bared its teeth and tried to bite her. Its teeth were inches from her skin, she screamed louder, squealing in fear.

Nick and Greg both scrambled to help her. Greg wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled. Nick trained his gun on the corpse.

"I can't get a clear shot! Sara, hit it! Hit it!"

Belatedly, Sara realized she was holding her heavy Maglite. She began clubbing the corpse in the head. Snarling she beat the creature as hard as she could.

"Evilmotherfuckerletmego!" Curses fell from her lips. Blood and bone fragments sprayed everywhere. The grip on her wrist slackened and she felt the arm of the thing fall away, she kept on bludgeoning it. Gripping the flashlight two-handed now, she swung again and again. "Hateyouhateyouhateyoufuckingimpossiblething!" She felt the skull cave in under her assault. DiejustfuckingDIE!" Something was trying to pull her away and she struggled to get free. She needed to pound the skull to a powder. Erase the obscenity under her, from Earth. "I!" she swung, "am having!" she swung again, " a really!" once again "Bad!" one final swing "DAY!"

Panting, she straightened. She winced, her shoulders were screaming from the exertion of the past few minutes. She looked up to find Nick and Greg staring at her in trepidation. "What?" She wiped at the blood spotting her shirt, smearing it across her front. Her hands were coated with gore, but on the plus side the ink stain wasn't as noticeable.

"Nothing." Greg said hastily. "Nothing at all."

"Sara" Nick's voice was gentle "Can I have the flashlight?" He held out his hand.

Absently, she handed it over noting as she did so the blood splattered on Nick's shirt.

"You've got some on you…I think I'm going to go get some fresh air, okay?"

"Sure thing." Nick said, gingerly holding the gruesome flashlight between two fingers. "Greg and I will be right up okay, honey?"

"Mmm-hmm…" She wandered away.

"Jesus American!" Greg said. "I've never seen Sara lose it like that…"

"Yeah. I know. She's almost scarier than a zombie."

"Note to self: never make Sara question the assumptions she builds her world on. Can lead to homicidal rage…"

"C'mon let's go before we have to sic Mad Dog Sidle on this other poor bastard."

"Yeah and we need to get her sorted before she puts two and two together and realizes that if this is happening here…

"It's probably happening everywhere. Including headquarters…where we have an ample supply of dead bodies." Nick finished.

The two men shared a grim look and left the cellar.


	5. Are You Ready For This?

They found Sara sitting in the driver's seat of the Tahoe. The door was open and she had her long legs planted on the dusty ground of the driveway. She stared blankly out into the desert night. Distantly the sound of sirens waxed and waned, more disturbing was the sound of gunshots. She was listening to the radio.

_…Hang tight kiddies…I've got some important safety tips for all you happy campers out there…Authorities are urging us all to stay inside if we can and you can bet your sweet bippy Crazy Dave ain't moving from this chair if he can help it, hell no…The FCC can kiss my white ass…The phenomenon, as the government asshats are referring to it, seems to be spreading. But friends and neighbors, you can protect yourself if you are attacked. Destroying the head seems to stop these fuckers dead in their tracks. So kids, aim for the brain. Of course if Republican zombies attack you, y'all might be out of luck…The important thing is, don't get bit. These zombie creeps are hungry motherfuckers. And once bitten you come down with a nasty case of death, just ask my station manager Steve-O. Hey there Steve-O! Locked his ass up in the supply closet. He's banging around in there now… Guess you should have given me that raise after all, huh Steve? Okay time for another platter that matters—no more of this top forty shit—groove on this kids. I'm Crazy Dave and you're listening to KJRT, Vegas' Number One Radio Station, now commercial and zombie free… here's The Clash and Armageddon Time…_

"Sounds like Crazy Dave is really living up to that handle huh?" Greg commented.

"We have to get back." Sara said dully.

"I know but—" Nick started.

"We _have to_ get back. Grissom's still at work. So's Catherine and Warrick and…" _Everyone we care about…_ She looked at them and tears shone brightly in her eyes.

"They'll be okay, Sara." Nick said quietly.

"You can't know that. I tried calling" She toyed with her cell phone. "I can't get any signal at all." Suddenly she stood and threw the phone out into the desert. Then Sara Sidle did what she'd been desperate to do ever since this day started to go wrong. She balled her hands into fists and screamed. She threw her head back and screamed until her voice was raw. Nick was at a loss; he stood there dumbfounded. Crying women he could understand but screaming ones? No way.

The next thing Sara knew Greg was beside her, screaming too. Her gripped her arms and yelled along with her, throwing in a few curse words for good measure.

"Fucking Right! Let it all out! Fuuuuuuck!" She doubled her efforts and Greg started bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Yeahyeahyeah! Are you ready! Are you FUCKING READY FOR THIS!"

And Sara was nodding and jumping up and down too and screaming her heart out.

"YESSSS! YES! FUCKING YES!"

"Then let's go _kick some zombie ass!_ "

And she was crying and laughing and it was okay. Just then it was okay. She hugged Greg hard, feeling the surge of wild love in her heart, glad to be alive, even though most of the world had turned to shit and she had never been so scared.

"Yeah! Right on! C'mon Nicky! Let's go be heroes!" Greg shouted.

They held out their hands to him. And Nick couldn't help but grin as he took their hands in his. They were crazy—shithouse rat crazy as his Daddy called it…and he'd never been so damn happy to have them around.


	6. A Fine Apocalyptic Evening

Heading back into Vegas, they stopped at a convenience store. Nick and Sara in their vests now, covering Greg as he slipped past the burning wreck of a car. Climbing over the strewn debris—some of it blood and body parts—through the shattered glass door into the 7-11. He grabbed water, some food and supplies but most importantly the shotgun and box of shells the owner had kept behind the counter.

He made it back outside just as a staggering group of dead had started lurching towards them. He froze for a second. It was eerily like a movie, _except I doubt the hero's sphincter was puckered as tightly as mine is right now…_

The only sounds were the muffled thuds and scrapes as the corpses lumbered closer. They moved slowly but relentlessly nearer.

"Kinda sluggish aren't they?" Greg said. He couldn't peel his eyes away and stared in sick fascination

"Yep." Sara replied. She fired off a warning shot. The corpses didn't even react. She shot one of the closest ones—an elderly lady wearing a floral housedress drenched in blood, the blood looked black under the harsh fluorescent lights. The woman tumbled over and tripped up a few zombies close behind but the others eventually started to awkwardly climb over the obstruction in their path. The blind seeking movements they made reminded Greg of wind-up toys. _Not that long ago, these were people—moms and dads, sons and daughters, lovers, friends…now just so much meat. Dead meat. _

"Oh shit. Here comes more…" Nick said. Attracted by the noise and light more dead were appearing out of the darkness like ghastly moths.

"Guess we all should walk a just little bit faster then." Greg said.

They stared at him for a beat. Sara started giggling again. Greg wondered if it always took an apocalypse to bring out the funny side of Sara. As they climbed into the Tahoe, the giggles had grown into laughter and even Nick was chuckling. He backed up and the SUV thumped over a body lying on the road, startling them.

"Shit!" Nick cracked the window. "Sorry man didn't see you." The zombie gurgled and struggled to rise, dead eyes glaring in the glow of the taillights at Nick.

Greg tried to bite down on his lips but it was too late. He started howling, which of course set off Sara again in the front seat. She held her stomach and hiccupped helpless laughter. Greg knew the laughter was a perfectly normal stress response but he was a little concerned at how crazy they all seemed.

_Well better to laugh and go crazy than die and become so much meat…_ Nick cranked the radio; Crazy Dave was playing _"Bela Lugosi's Dead" _by Bauhaus. Greg cracked the shotgun over his knees and sang along under his breath as he loaded it while the Tahoe bumped back over the body and sped into the Vegas night.

* * *

_Vegas is surreal at the best of times but this—this is fucking unbelievable…_ Sara stared out the front window as Nick deftly wove the SUV around piles of debris, crashed and abandoned cars, and once around a white baby grand piano sitting in solitary splendor in the middle of the street, piled sheet music burning merrily inside and the odd flaming bit floating heavenward on drafts of heated air.

And always the dead. Staggering and stumbling through the streets, sometimes alone, mostly in packs, tottering in swaying groups on an aimless mission for…well she knew what for.

She shuddered, remembering the sight that had suddenly swum up into their headlights. Seven or eight zombies clustered around the body of a fat tourist. They'd looked up at the sound of squealing brakes, but had turned back to ripping apart the corpse. _Like jackals feeding on carrion…_She rubbed her forehead, too much adrenaline had left her feeling headachy. _But that's not exactly right either…they're too slow and dopey looking. _They'd lacked the animal quickness and vitality; they didn't look like anything other than the dead things they were. Their indifference had infuriated Sara and she'd started to open the door when Nick's hand on her arm stopped her.

"It would only be a waste of ammo, Sara…"

He was right, but some part of her longed to just point her gun and start shooting. Still did.

Sara concentrated on the radio as a distraction. Crazy Dave was still broadcasting. He'd even started taking requests.

_Hey you're with Crazy Dave on KJRT, your source for breaking news on the zombie terrorists, who am I talking to?_

_Hey Dave! You fucking rule! Whooo! It's Nate!_

The voice was young, male, and jacked on end-of-days excitement and terror.

_That I do, Nate... So where are you calling from?_

_The Strip! Fucking insane man—it's out of control! There's zombies every-fucking-where. I wasted like fifteen already and someone let loose the tigers at the Mirage and they're running around eating zombies and attacking people and everything man! And I swear to fucking God Celine Dion's down here too. My friends and I have a bet going to see who can be the first to shoot her ass!_

_So you're telling me Celine Dion's a zombie now? I wish I could feel bad about that, I truly do…_

_No man. We don't know if she's a zombie or not, we just wanna waste her, we hate that fucking bitch! _

The boy laughed knowingly and Dave joined in and Sara had a very clear vision of what the Fall of Rome would have been like if it were broadcast live to air.

_My buddies and I came down to get in on some primo killing time and y'know…to see if we could get ourselves a little something-something—know what I mean?_

_By something-something I take it to mean, you and your upstanding law abiding friends are just there for a look-see and in no way would be doing anything so illegal as looting, right m'man?_

_Riiiight dude! We ain't gonna steal nothing! _

The boy laughed again. In the background screams and sirens could be heard.

_So what's your request Nate? What can Crazy Dave lay on you on this very fine apocalyptic evening?_

_Can you play "Head Like a Hole"? _

_Sure can good buddy, AFI or NIN version?_

_Oh gotta go with the classic. Load up the Reznor! Fucking-A! And can you dedicate it to my girlfriend Shelia? Shelia baby, I love you! Whoo! _

_Alrighty then, take care Nate. Shoot some zombies for me! This is for Shelia…Here's Nine Inch Nails and "Head Like a Hole…" _

"Turn it up, this is a good song!" Greg called from the backseat.

Sara hesitated, and then turned up the volume. It was after all, a great song for this very fine apocalyptic evening.


	7. Heironymous Bosch With Cars

"How much longer?" Sara was getting edgy again. Parts of the power grid had shut down and it was eerie driving in and out of lighted areas. Little islands of normalcy—or at the very least, reminders of the old world—that flashed by all too quickly.

"Well on any other day, I'd say about 10 minutes but…" Nick didn't need to explain the delay. His lips tightened as he stared out the front window into the darkness and he changed the subject. "Grab anything good to eat there, Greg. I'm kinda hungry."

"Sure. What do you want? Twinkies? Ho-Ho's? Chips?"

"God, that stuff will kill you. All those preservatives? No thanks, got any fruit?"

"I have a fruit pie…that's vaguely fruitlike."

Nick sighed, "I guess that'll have to do. Pass it up."

Greg leaned forward,

"Sara, I have a package of Twinkies here with your name on it." He offered her the snack.

"No thanks, I'm not hungry." She said as she gazed out the window.

"Well, you're chewing on your nails pretty good, I thought you might be…" Greg snagged her hand and pulled it away from her mouth.

Sara fidgeted uncomfortably; _it's no good ignoring it…tell them._

"Uhh…listen guys. I really hate to tell you this but—"

Greg's eyes caught hers in the rearview.

"Did you get—get bit?" His voice was quiet.

"What! No! Nothing like that…I…have to…"

She blurted out the rest in a rush.

"I really have to pee…" She trailed off lamely.

Nick's lips twitched, he cleared his throat. Embarrassed Sara found herself divulging more than she wanted to. "Look, ever since I was a little kid, stress and running around and being scared and well it just makes me have to pee. I never was any good at hide and seek I'd get myself into a really good spot and them boom…I'd have to go." She smacked Nick's arm as he was starting to chuckle.

He adopted a paternal tone. "Why didn't you go at the house before we left, Sara?"

"I _didn't_ have to go then, Dad." Sarcastically she rolled her eyes.

Greg butted in, "You can't hold it?"

"I _have_ been holding it. I don't think I can for much longer." She shifted uncomfortably on the seat.

"Want me to pull over?" Nick offered.

"And what? Drop my drawers and crouch out there and go where a zombie could get me? No thanks."

"I could go with you." Greg offered. "You know stand guard for you…"

"Thanks but no. I can't go if someone's watching me."

Nick was starting to smirk so Sara whacked him on the arm again.

"Shut up! I have a shy bladder." Greg looked at Nick and a look of perfect male understanding passed between them, irritating Sara more. "Well I do. So we have to find a bathroom. Now!" Sara turned back and poked Greg. "And enough with the looks from back there you!"

Nick slowed the Tahoe and brought it to a halt. Sara turned around.

"Is there a gas stat—?" She stopped.

The road in front of them was completely blocked. Sara was able to deduce what had happened from the piles of wreckage in front of them. A large tractor-trailer lay jackknifed across the road, pinning several other cars under it when it had slammed onto its side. The trailer sides had accordioned and crumpled spilling boxes all over the road, drawing looters like flies to a corpse. Then of course the fires had been started and finally, like late guests to a dinner party, the zombies had staggered in.

"Well hell." Nick slammed his palms on the steering wheel in frustration.

"God. It's like Heironymous Bosch with cars out there isn't it?" Greg said causing Sara to quirk an eyebrow at him.

"I took an Art History course once in university." He offered by way of explanation.

She nodded. The many layers of Greg Sanders never ceased to surprise her.

"And arty chicks are freaks in the sack." He leered.

Good to know some things never changed though.

"Looks like you'll be getting that pit stop sooner rather than later, Sara." Nick said as he turned the Tahoe around. "That was the main road to HQ. We'll have to make one mother of a detour to get there now."

"The other routes could be worse than this one even..." Greg's voice echoed Nick's frustration. "And we have no way of knowing which way to go."

"There's never a traffic report when you need one." Sara muttered as she wiggled uncomfortably in the seat and concentrated on this bit of bad news as a distraction from her aching bladder.


End file.
